The Ghost of a Future
by theoofoof
Summary: Loosely based on the extended scene that was originally storyboarded for Harry's visit to Ruth's house in 10x06, but with a twist. H/R.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Ghost of a Future  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Spooks  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Angst/Romance **  
>Warnings:<strong> None

**Summary:** Fic based on the extended scene that was originally storyboarded for Harry's visit to Ruth's house in 10x06.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Spooks or any of the characters you may recognise. They all belong to Kudos/BBC.

**A/N: **Here I am with another short offering, despite my increasing workload. I'm thinking this will be about 3 chapters in length. As I said in the summary, this is based on the extended stuff that is talked about on the audio commentary to 10x06. Extra stuff was storyboarded for the scene in 10x06 where Harry visits the house that Ruth wanted to buy. I will post a link in my profile for anyone who wants to read what was said.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

He approaches the green door with the peeling paint; he can see now why she said she hadn't wanted to change it. It was so….Ruth. Taking out his newly acquired key, he unlocks the door and steps inside . He stands in the hallway, an internal battle raging within him. He didn't really know if buying this place was a good idea, but he needed something to cling to, something of hers. The flat she had lived in since her return from Cyprus wasn't good enough; it didn't represent her, but this cottage did. It had been her dream; so to him it is as if she seeps through every brick, every drop of paint.

He closes his eyes, letting the emotions wash over him. Every moment they have ever shared flashes through his mind; every smile, every touch, every stinging comment, every kiss and it breaks his heart that it has come to this. The wind sweeps in through the open front door and he's sure he hears her voice carried on it. "Harry," she calls; lovingly, devotedly. But he knows it isn't her; it can't be.

He walks through the first door on his left, into the living room. The room is bland; magnolia walls, no furniture and empty floor to ceiling bookcases in the alcoves either side of the wood burning fire. His eyes slip shut as he imagines sitting in front of a roaring fire, with her in his arms.

"Harry." Her voice again, a whisper in the air. It forces him to open his eyes and he sees her there, in front of him. The image, a ghost of a future they could have had, is a little blurry around the edges, like a watercolour. She is standing on step ladder, hanging a picture. "Is it straight?" she asks, not turning around. "Harry? I said, is it straight?" The image before him fades, before he has the chance to tell her that no, it isn't. And as an intelligence analyst, she ought to know that.

He moves through to the sparsely furnished kitchen, and as he does so the room comes to life, just as the living room had done moments ago. There is music playing and the table is set for a candlelight dinner for two. Harry can smell the delicious aroma of a chilli con carne and he can see her again, standing at the stove. She is swaying slightly to the music; it's a classical piece he vaguely recognises but can't quite place. It doesn't matter though, it fits perfectly. "Harry!" she calls, again not looking at him. "Dinner's nearly ready. Can you open some wine?" But, for the second time, she is gone before he can utter a response.

He retreats back out into the hallway and stands at the bottom of the stairs, looking into a mirror that adorns the pale blue wall, wondering if he's going mad. He is rational, he knows it isn't real. Not for the first time, he ponders if it was a mistake to purchase the house. Can he cope with being haunted by her image every day, or will it drive him slowly insane?

He ascends the stairs and stops in the doorway of the master bedroom. He leans on the doorframe as she appears before him. This time the image is of her sitting up in bed, reading. The book is the same one she was reading on the bus all those years ago; 'Persuasion.' She looks up at him, really looks at him, but she doesn't say anything. She just smiles and pats the empty space on the bed next to her. He complies with her request, moving toward her and takes his place alongside her. A whiff of her unmistakable scent and she is gone; he is alone once more.

He almost can't bear entering the next room; the one she had designated as his office. He'd wanted to ask her what on earth she thought he'd need an office for when he was leaving the service, but it hadn't been the time. He turns the handle on the door and pushes it open. He doesn't see an office. The walls are a pale yellow, with white furniture and a gentle tune fills the air. In the middle of the room Ruth stands, bent slightly over a crib, cooing softly to its occupant. "Ssh, It's okay. Daddy will be back soon." Harry enters the room, trying to get a better look at the scene before him, but as he arrives at the side of the cot, the image again disappears.

It's more than he can take and he rushes from the room, down the stairs and out into the garden, slamming the front door so hard that a few flecks of paint are dislodged and float to the floor. He walks up the path, his eyes focused on the gate; not allowing any other images of what might have been to invade his mind. He's almost back at his car when his mobile rings. Taking it out of his jacket pocket, he blanches at the name showing on the screen. He really doesn't want to take the call but forces himself to answer, knowing he can't possibly ignore it.

"Harry Pearce." He listens intently to the voice on the other end before replying stoically, "I'm on my way."

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><p><strong>AN:** There is more if you want it. Review and let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews on the first chapter. Apologies to anyone who struggled to get at it. I don't know what happened, on minute it was there (and being read and reviewed) and the next it was gone! It was still showing on my account and in my previews so I can't figure it out; it's a mystery. Anyway, in the end I just decided to repost. and it seemed to rectify the problem.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Arriving at his destination, he heads straight for the lift and pushes the button for the third floor. He has made this journey often enough over the past three weeks that his body knows automatically where to go; it doesn't need any help from him, which is probably just as well given his current state or he'd never get there. His gait is heavy and burdened and his mind is distracted; worried about what he is about to face.

As he reluctantly approaches his final destination, a man steps out of the room he is heading for and greets him. "Sir Harry."

"Doctor Percival. I got a call from the nurses' station."

"Yes. There's been a change in Miss Evershed's condition." Harry's heart sinks; this is it, the moment he's been dreading for the past two weeks since their showdown with Sasha on that hillside. The air ambulance had managed to revive Ruth on their arrival at the scene, but she had failed to awaken since. He'd known that the longer she remained in a coma, the less likely she was to ever wake, and the nurses had recently begun to tell him to prepare for the worst. And here it is. The doctor notices the change in Harry's expression and places a hand on his shoulder. "Not that sort of change," he assures.

Harry lifts his eyes. "Then what?"

"Her Glasgow Coma rating has gone from a 4 to a 6."

"What does that mean?"

"Technically she's gone from a deep state of coma to a moderate one. In layman's terms, it means she's improving."

Harry's heart soared. "So she'll wake up?"

"We still can't be sure of that, but there's certainly a much better chance now. We can't give you any time frame either, I'm afraid' you just have to be patient. We'll run another GCS test in a few hours to see if there's been any further improvement. For now, I'll leave you alone."

Harry enters the room and takes his regular seat in the chair next to Ruth's bed. She looks so peaceful, like she's merely sleeping, but he knows she isn't. He takes her right hand in his and strokes his thumb across the back of it. "Ruth, darling. It's me, Harry. The doctors tell me you're getting better. I'm ashamed to say that I'd…I'd almost given up hope; I thought I'd lost you and I couldn't bear it. I just need you to keep fighting sweetheart. Fight. For me. For us. For the life we could have together. I've had a glimpse of it today and it could be so…perfect. So please Ruth, find your way back to us."

Harry doesn't leave Ruth's side for the rest of the evening; he reads to her, articles from the paper, but only uplifting ones and the cricket news, passages from Home's 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey', Shakespeare's sonnets and excerpts from 'Persuasion' and 'Rebecca'. Anything he can get his hands on really. He is there when the doctors return to redo the test and is distressed that there is no further improvement.

"Please Ruth," he whispers a few hours later, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Please come back to me." His tears drip unnoticed onto her face, as the anguish he feels is finally released. He pulls away from her and is about to lift his hand to wipe away the tears when he feels it. He looks down at their enjoined hands; she is gripping his. "Ruth? Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." He waits, remaining deathly still and it's an age before Ruth does anything and even when she does it's only a light pressure around his fingers, but it's there. He drags his eyes away from her hand to her face in time to see her eyes flutter and a small moan escape her. "Hold on Ruth. Keep fighting. I'll be right back," he tells her as he reluctantly lets go of her hand and rushes into the corridor to call for a doctor.

It's four hours before she awakes properly, and another two before the doctors and nurses stop filing in and out of the room and finally leave them alone. She is still very weak, but she manages a small smile and a 'Hi' for him.

"You should rest," he tells her and she shakes her head.

"Been asleep for weeks," she reminds him, struggling to get her words out.

"Not quite the same thing, darling."

She smiles at the endearment. "Talk to me," she rasps.

"I've been doing that non-stop for three weeks. Surprised you're not sick of the sound of my voice."

Another smile and almost imperceptible shake of the head. "Please?"

So he does, he tells her many things, about how he thought he had lost her, about the worldly events she has missed and about his suspicions about Erin and Dimitri's blossoming relationship. She brightens at this and with a raised eyebrow, accuses him of being a gossip. Harry chuckles for the first time in what seems like a lifetime. At some point during their mostly one-sided conversation, she reaches for his hand and entwines her fingers with his. He looks up at her, a question in his eyes. She merely smiles and indicates that he should carry on with his story.

He doesn't tell her about the house. He wants it to be a surprise, if she still wants them to be together, that is. He knows he shouldn't doubt it, but near death experiences can change people. He's seen it happen too many times in their line of work.

Gradually, Ruth's eyes begin to slip closed and she drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Once Harry's sure she's definitely asleep, he disentangles their hands, slips out into the corridor and pulls out his phone. It's early, but he doesn't care. He needs to do this now. "It's Harry Pearce, I need to speak to the Home Secretary."

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><p><strong>AN: **Did you really think I could do that to them; rip them apart when they'd only just got their acts together? Well, surprisingly I was going to, it was originally intended to be a tragic one-shot, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it be...I _need_ happy endings in my life, you see. Hope you're not disappointed.

One more chapter to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hey guys. Thanks again for the reviews for the last chapter. Glad you're on board with the direction of this. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd alienate some readers by keeping Ruth alive. This is the final chapter - hope it meets with your approval. Please leave a review an let me know. Anonymous reviews are welcome, so don't worry about having to have an account.

**Chapter 3**

It's a few weeks before the doctors declare Ruth fit enough to be discharged, and even then she is to take it easy. Harry has visited every day and their relationship is progressing. Not so much in a physical sense, although there have been a few light kisses and caresses, but on an emotional level. They have talked, really talked – probably more than they ever have before – and have gotten to know one another. Properly this time. No more secrets. Well, apart from the two Harry is keeping right now. He hopes she will understand.

"Ready to go Ruth?" he asks, picking up her bag from the end of the bed.

She has one last check around the sparse hospital room before replying. "Yes. Yes I am. Get me out of here Harry."

He chuckles, she's been anxious to leave since about two days after waking but the doctors had been insistent that she stay, even when he offered to care for her full time at home. "Come on then. Let's get you home."

Luckily, Ruth falls asleep almost as soon as the car starts moving; the walk to the car-park having tired her out. Harry wonders for a moment if she really is well enough to be going home, but decides that that doctors must know what they are talking about so he should trust their judgement. Her exhaustion is a blessing in one respect though; it saves him from having to explain why he's driving in the opposite direction to either of their houses.

It's over two hours before they arrive, and Ruth sleeps the whole way. He pulls the car to a stop and leans over to her. "Ruth. Wake up Ruth. We're here."

Her eyes flutter open and Harry thinks that a just woken Ruth is one of the most beautiful sights he has ever seen, and one that he hopes he'll see every day for the rest of his life, if she is willing. She stretches and glances round at their location, realisation dawning.

"This isn't my flat. Nor is it your house," she observes. She spots something she recognises and turns back to Harry. "How long was I asleep?"

"A couple of hours," he admits. "You must have needed it."

Ruth gets out of the car and her eyes sweep the surrounding area, looking to confirm her suspicions. "Harry, this is…my house. I mean, the one I was going to…How did you…"

"I'm a Spook, Ruth," he tells her as if it should be obvious, joining her on the gravel driveway. He takes a breath then, steeling himself to make his first confession. "Or at least I was."

Ruth is so occupied looking at the house that it takes a moment for his words to register with her. "What do you mean, was?"

"I've left the Service Ruth."

"Ha…" she begins but he doesn't let her get any further. He's on a roll now.

"And…I've bought this house. For you. For us. To live in…together. If you'd like to, that is."

Ruth gazes at him for what seems like a lifetime, trying to think of an appropriate response to this wonderful man standing before her. He begins to worry at her silence, has he pushed too far, too quickly? Soon, much to his relief, a small smile appears on her face. "That's a bit presumptuous of you," she teases, echoing her words of five years previously. "I might have said no."

"Well, I'll live in it anyway," he retorts, smiling as he remembers their conversation on the roof.

"I don't recall any Charlie Chaplin characters doing that," Ruth points out as she steps into him. Looking deep into his eyes, she finally gives him an answer. "I would love to live here with you, Harry." He wraps his arms delicately around her and she lifts her lips to capture his. The kiss is exquisite, full of love and promise. It's starts gently, but they quickly become absorbed in each other, letting the world around them fall away. Harry's tongue sweeps across her lips, demanding entrance. She complies, her mouth falling open to accept it and their tongues dance, sending shivers down Ruth's spine. When they pull apart they're wearing matching smiles.

"We should get you inside. You're supposed to be resting."

"I'll be fine," protests Ruth even as a long yawn escapes. Harry raises an eyebrow and fixes her with a pointed look before leading her into their house; his hand on the small of her back. He guides her through to the lounge,

"Oh! Harry!" she gasps as her eyes fall on the room. It's full of all her furniture and all belongings, the floor to ceiling book cases filled with her numerous volumes of Homer and other Greek classics. "You've certainly been busy whilst I've been in hospital."

"I had help; Dimitri and Callum did most of the heavy lifting."

"I must remember to thank them," she muses as she sits on her sofa, but then the reality of the situation dawns on her. "Well, I would if I was ever going to see them again. Now that you've retired, that's not likely to happen is it?"

"I think that as the new section head, Erin will obey that rule about as much as I did."

Ruth smiles knowingly. "Ah yes. How is Malcolm?"

"He's fine. Sends his love. Says we must arrange to meet when you're feeling up to it."

"I'd like that," Ruth says, stifling another yawn.

"You really should be in bed," Harry reminds her.

"I'm fine," she protests, her eyes slipping closed as she does so. "I'll just rest here for a while."

It's not long before she's asleep again. Harry manoeuvres her into a more comfortable position on the couch and steps into the kitchen to make a start on a meal for them both.

He's stirring a simple carbonara when he senses her presence behind him. He glances at her, leaning against the door frame with her hair all tousled from sleep, and flashes her a small smile. "Hi."

"Hi," she replies, slipping into the kitchen and taking a seat at table.

"I was about to come and wake you, it's nearly ready."

"It smells heavenly."

"I won't take that as too much of a compliment considering you've been eating hospital food for the past three weeks." He chuckles as he pours the pasta into the dishes and carries them to the table. They eat in relative silence, just enjoying each other's presence.

They're not eating her chilli con carne at a candlelit table with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata flowing through the air. She's yet to stand on a step-ladder and hang a picture, or to sit in their bed and read Persuasion, and as they've not consummated their relationship yet, she's hard pushed to be standing over a crib, soothing their child. But, he muses as he watches her eat, she's alive, she's here and they're together; which is more than he ever dared to hope for. Their future lies ahead of them, just waiting to be fulfilled.


End file.
